Sex is always better on a Tuesday
by SilverCrescentX
Summary: Draco always has sex on a Tuesday, that is, until he meets Harry Potter. AU. Harry/Draco.
1. Chapter 1

**Sex is always better on a Tuesday**

Harry/Draco.

M

_Disclaimer: I don't quite own any of these lovelies. _

_**Part (1/2)**_

It all came down to one thing, one simple thing when Draco was about, flitting through throngs of grease and sweat and smoke. Alcohol stuck to his skin like a sweet, sin sleek in his veins and blood, and thoughts, just thoughts, of the things he could do amongst so many men was sweeter than anything he had ever tasted – because anticipation, was almost as good as sex. Almost.

It was always on a Tuesday. Tuesdays, after all, were just the day, the day that his nerves went wonky, and everything in him just thrummed and thrived on the beat of night clubs and the smell of stale sex and cigarette smoke. A push in the right direction of course, always came from Blaise, a new club, a new establishment, anything trashy or pricey or out of sorts in the ordinary way – he was there. If there would be men, then Draco clung to it with an open mouth, quick to paste himself to something new and lean or maybe, sometimes, preferably muscular.

Tuesday, today, of all days, was magical. Tuesdays, after all, meant difference. It was special. The men were special. The sight of them, what it had to offer, wasn't the usual lot that frequented low run shit clubs or even the high class digs. Tuesdays were thick cocks and beautiful faces and thick, thick pockets, and even though Draco had enough money to last him a lifetime, he could always do with some more.

His glass was frosted over, champagne on his tongue, bought by a man leering across to other side of leather couches and lesser smoke, and Draco smiled over the rim, legs crossed and pressing them together so tightly, because he was excited and he knew it, but it didn't mean that he wanted it to show, not this early. Not when his special for the night hadn't shown.

Blaise was next to him. Black hair that stuck to him, pasty white cheeks from too much foundation, he looked beautiful. Like death and seduction, and swift fingers, ready to deflower another beautiful boy or man with kisses and thrusts. It was a man this time, early twenties, draped near his lap and into his nape. Brown haired and average, but with pretty eyes, such pretty eyes and cheeks that Draco knew what he saw in him. He watched him shift his shirt, the man's shirt just a bit to expose flesh, softly tanned, and his body dipped, to suck at the trail of sweat across his stomach, just flat enough and perfect.

Draco moaned when the younger man did.

The lighting was damn near infuriating. The shades fell in just the right places, and he could see Blaise's groin and the hardened dampness of his prey, legs spread and just dear god those hips and Blaise's teeth; he held in a whimper when his mouth closed over a protruding hip bone, because it was too long into the night and he hadn't seen anyone yet, and Blaise had found his pick within minutes of buying a drink and fixing the sweep of his hair.

He slid further into the couches, and he let out a little breathy gasp as he surveyed bodies and languid figures moist with lust. The atmosphere here, made him jittery, and as he moved his arm to press into his face, hoping, waiting, he saw it, him, just right there, then, just across him.

It was him. Him, the special one. His Tuesday evening pick.

He was tall. So tall and slim and impeccably dressed for such a shit hole place. His cheeks were flushed – he could see it from even here – and he even wondered if the man could handle liquor.

It didn't matter. He was too beautiful to pass up. Shy, or repressed, or straight – it didn't matter. It never mattered. He wanted him. And Draco damn well knew how to get what he wanted, wrapping fingers into stringy hair and never letting go.

He was off the couches, unseen by Blaise who had long tugged down his pants, cock bobbing out between the zippers to rub against the brunette's cheeks and lips. His own prey, the tall one, was close enough now, for him to touch, and he slid, pushing away his drink, right into his lap, legs hanging over and grinning into his face.

"Hello."

Shy boy grinned at him, not so shy, even with red cheeks. "Hello. There's a seat right next to me, you know."

"I know."

He laughed, and straightened his legs before picking up his drink again.

It was whiskey. Draco could smell it as the crystal passed under him.

"You're an odd one. I think I more than like you. and I believe–" He shifted, making sure the middle of his ass dug into his groin. "–that you're nice and big and fuck you definitely are. We can have some fun, can't we?"

Draco was stilled into silence when the man only smiled, red cheeks hard, and whiskey no more as he shot it down.

"And why should I join you? Even though you are…" His palm cupped his cheek, and his breath caught, "…so very lovely. Pretty even, for a man. But definitely a man," he said. "Gorgeous, but I can have my toys whenever I want. And I don't think I want you."

He nearly choked on his laugh. "You don't?"

"No, I don't quite think so."

His lips were stuck together, and he couldn't figure if the man was joking, or serious enough that he was nothing but a pretty face shrouded by the thoughts of many others. Thoughts, of maybe or maybe not, was still embarrassing. There had never been someone who did not breathe 'yes' to him.

"You're in shock," the man said, amused, and his voice was thick with it. "Such a pretty thing that you're shocked I've said no." His eyes crinkled, – a beautiful green – soft lines that made his face handsome, and a mouth so hard that Draco wondered if he had imagined the softness, the shyness with reddened cheeks and softer mouth. "But I'll tell you this. When I want to fuck you, I'll fuck you. Just not when you tell me to."

His nose was warm as it pecked near his cheek.

"The name's Harry Potter, boy. And I'll see you again. I'm sure of it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Sex is Always Better on a Tuesday**

Harry/Draco.

NC-17

**Part (2/2)**

OOOOO

Restlessness was not common for him.

Blaise had, not to many times for the week, slapped him for sprinting and pacing, for cooking unnecessarily, and then babbling across from his bedroom when Blaise was not listening. The restlessness that he felt came from sexual tension and horniness and he'd be damned if he didn't find some way to release it.

But if only he could.

His mind, the stupid ways of it, worked in a straight, never-ending line sometimes. That man from the club, he wanted him. His body wanted him. And it didn't matter for him to flit around searching for someone else to satisfy that itch that kept gnawing away at his insides. It wouldn't work. He wanted him.

If only he could –

"You're pathetic Dray." Blaise was tapping away at his computer, another letter and another file and another another another. Office jobs were terrible. But they paid the bills. And their pleasures and wants and over excessive necessities when they both had to have them.

And it helped that they shared a flat.

"Still pining away for the guy who turned you down."

Draco scowled, but he didn't refute.

"Maybe he's straight."

"He was not straight. Even if he was he wanted to have sex with me. Who doesn't?"

"Straight men."

"Invalid."

"Married men?"

"Still invalid."

"Guys who're into animals?"

"Okay, valid," Draco grinned. "But I'm telling Blaise, he wasn't straight and he was certainly interested. I just don't understand how he could turn me down."

"Just…did it ever occur to you, that maybe the guy wasn't feeling to have sex that day? Maybe he just wanted some peace and quiet to drink his sorrows away?"

"Who doesn't want to have sex?" Draco looked appalled.

"Normal people."

"No."

"Yes Draco. Normal people."

"That's disgusting."

"You're disgusting."

OOOOOO

It was Tuesday again.

Draco had been there for only ten minutes and he downed two drinks, already onto his third and reaching for a fourth. He was surprised Blaise hadn't bothered to stop him.

"Are you even listening to what I'm telling you Dray? Or you're still all nerves for mystery man who rejected your sorry ass."

"Drinking my soul away before I go look for another man to fuck. Like I'm ever seeing him again."

"Right." Blaise chose to look away, or maybe he was searching for his pick for the night, something that could trump the beauty he chosen last time.

His hands were warm, and left the glass, sliding off the stool and brushing against Blaise, pressing his face to his cheek.

"I need to find someone or I'm going to go crazy. I'll meet you back in a few."

"Going short tonight?"

"I'd rather fuck then come back for drinks and go home. I have a fucking meeting at half seven tomorrow."

"Poor baby."

"Fuck you."

"I love you too Dray."

OOOOOOO

The boardroom was mess of people, caffeine, and scattered papers. Draco was crouched between two fat men, one, his boss, and the other, the manager of sales. Blaise was secured in his office, and Draco hated him for it. It was always him who had to attend the regular meetings, because he worked directly for the manager of their branch, and the older man liked him. A pretty face and brains was too much, apparently, for a simple worker. He was, however, an ordinary office worker, who just happened to be the makeshift right hand man of the boss, and never got paid for it.

His boss did, though, pay for lunch and dinner and all the coffees Draco downed in a day, so it wasn't too bad on most days.

Someone was talking to him, and he didn't know if it was one of the scrawny underlings on the other side of the table, or his boss, or the other manager next to him, but he squeezed his thighs together, excused himself, and left, because really, he needed to piss.

The bathroom on the top floor was always empty, and he was accustomed to leaving the third floor to trek up to the top one to use their facilities, because even their fridge was bigger, and his boss had a stock of fresh fruits and juices and gourmet coffee that Draco had access to. On days that Blaise pissed him off, he didn't bother to share.

Blaise usually called him a bastard-bitch anyway. He was the sex maniac though. Not him.

He heard a toilet flushing. He hadn't noticed, until he heard it, that anyone else was there. The doors were usually closed, and it only had four stalls, larger than the usual narrow ones. He watched, as the man came out, neat dress pants, shiny shoes, and pressed shirt and tie to a neatly done collar. Draco saw the glint of earrings, black, and tiny.

It was also that he needed to pee, but he gave a squeak anyways.

"You."

The man, the man from the club the previous Tuesday, grinned at him, adjusted his tie, and came forward to wash his hands.

"Hello there."

"You–"

Draco hadn't realized that his fingers were pressing into the cold of the tap handle, and he yanked his hand away.

"I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't think the manager would allow you to use anything on this floor, considering you're an ordinary office worker." Draco squeaked again. "But he did also say you were not exactly that. You're his…unofficial right hand man, is it?"

"How…how do you even know the manager? Who are you? Are you stalking me?"

The man laughed. "Please. You aren't worth stalking. I have many other important things to be doing besides trying to run after a piece of young ass."

Young ass?

"Then why are you here?"

"Oh, you've never seen me here. I've seen you once before though, when you were with the manager. You should know of me though. I'm the head of the company's security branch. There was a breach last week, that they kept hush hush, but they're about to discuss it today, probably now actually."

"Head of security? You're…" Draco tried to rattle his memories for his name. His boss had told him a few times, of the man who oversaw their protection. He never went much into the details of his job, and Draco never understood if it was technology based, or actual physical means.

He still looked to damn young to be heading a branch.

"I remember now. The head was a man name Potter."

"Yes, and if you quite recall my name, it's Harry Potter." The man smiled, sweeping back fine hair. His forehead was lovely, and Draco had an odd urge to push at it further, until his hands covered his face. He was ridiculously beautiful. And there was still the itch and want of sex, from the man who had turned him away without much of a glance.

"So then, is that why you didn't want to fuck me?" Draco curled his lips, repressing his snarl. "Because I'm just an ordinary office worker?"

He wished Blaise was here. Blaise usually stopped him from saying stupid things. And his ego.

Harry was laughing again, at him this time, and opened the tap in the sink next to him. "I never did say I didn't want to have sex with you. I simply meant I can have sex whenever I want, with whomever I wanted. And I wanted no one that night." He looked over as he washed his hands. "It's hard to want for sex when you've just found out that your best friend had been siphoning money out of the company's stash."

OOOOOOO

It was hard trying to ignore someone who was so visibly endearing. It was also hard when Harry had not stopped staring at him throughout the meeting.

Draco hadn't heard much of what was said, simply because he hadn't bothered listening. He would read a summary later, and usually, his boss ended up going through and rattling things to him, before he left the office. There weren't many things that Draco did not know. He at least knew something about everything when it came to the company.

The managers and directors were getting up, and Draco was still sitting, watching to the lackeys scrambling to pick up the presentation papers and reports. His boss had his hand on his shoulder, and he felt pudgy fingers pressing into his flesh, sticky and wet.

He tried not to grimace. His boss wasn't that bad of a person.

"Mr. Potter said he'd like to see you. I'm surprised he wants to talk to you, but he has jurisdiction anyway – I think that's what he called it. He said he wants to ask you a few questions."

Draco waited till he left the room, before he reached over to wipe at the spot. He didn't exactly like touches, when it came from men and women who he was not particularly attracted to. Only Blaise was an exception, and it was because Blaise was his only family. Possibly his only friend, even.

Harry chuckled, and Draco forgot that he was sitting also, just a few chairs away.

"What?" he said. The meeting had been two hours long, and he craved another cup of coffee. Maybe he'd buy one outside, if Harry wanted to go with him. At least, he hoped so. Work wasn't all he really wanted to talk about, was it? There was nothing to talk about.

"You're an odd one. Tell me, do you usually go about, every night, looking for a different man to give you pleasure?"

"I would say of course, but, actually, I only act like a slut on Tuesdays. The sex is better on a Tuesday."

"What's so special about Tuesdays?" Harry asked him. His tie was loose, and he wondered when his shirt had become unbuttoned – two, no, three going down. His chest was a spicy tan colour, and he wanted to taste his skin, if it would taste of spices and warmth. He hated his own pallor.

"I just said it – the sex it better."

Harry grinned, uncrossing his long legs. He had thicker thighs, thicker than his own thin legs. It made him want to bury his fingers in it, and see just how much force he could fuck him with.

The man did not move. He sat there, crooked grin, looking almost as young as he was – maybe he was, but that made no sense. Draco didn't bother pretending anymore, that he didn't want him, the one who got away, the one who left when he had wanted him. It wasn't a Tuesday, but he didn't care for it to be Tuesday, or Sunday, or whatever day the world decided to say it was.

He was straddling Harry's legs, fingers clasping his shoulders, seeing his grin up close. His buttocks rested on the strength of his thighs, and he moaned, bringing his fingers down to feel between his legs.

"Please tell me that you want this, now. You're not still pining over your best friend being a retarded cunt and getting caught."

"I like the way you put it," he said, and his lips murmured across his cheek, until he found his lips. His teeth snagged the flesh of his bottom lip, and Draco groaned, digging his fingers into his chest, his stomach, and reaching to feel, again, the heat of his groin.

"That better be a no," he told him, and kissed him before he could answer. He pushed his body closer, close so that he could rub himself against him. His cock jumped, when it came against the heaviness of Harry's, and he moaned, rocking back to rut against him. "Shit, you're big."

"I'm big enough," said Harry, and his hands were caressing his hips. He slid further off the chair, and Draco kissed him again because the friction was so fucking beautiful that he keened against his mouth. "And, as I told you that night, I'd fuck you when I wanted to. I certainly want to now." Long fingers stopped his rutting, and he whimpered, teeth gnashing into Harry's. Their kisses were sloppy, wet, and Harry's mouth was firm against his. His tongue rubbed across Harry's mouth, and he whimpered again, wanting to rock against the heat between his legs.

Harry hushed him with kisses to his neck. He bit the flesh there, deep gnawing bites that had him arching near to his knees and gasping in loud breaths because it fucking hurt, but it felt so good. Harry was kissing him soft and hard, and he felt his zipper open, lifting his legs to tug at his pants and briefs. Fingers worked them from his thighs to his calves, and Harry's hands smoothed across the flesh there.

"The skin is so smooth," he said, and he seemed fascinated, by it.

"It's called waxing," said Draco, and pressed his legs together to tug off his jeans and underwear. His fingers snagged at Harry's pants buckle, and ripped at the button of his dress pants, sinking his fingers beneath cloth to feel his cock. Harry squirmed, hissing into his ears. He squeezed, and grinned when Harry nipped at the corner of neck.

"Seems like something you would like."

"I think you like my legs more than I do," he said, because Harry's hands were still there, rubbing the flesh of his legs, squeezing along until he pressed his fingers to the insides of his thigh. His palm covered his groin, rubbing against his hardened prick, bare in the cold of the air conditioning in the board room.

"I love them," Harry admitted. His fingers pressed deep below his cock, and Draco bit his lips, buttocks clenching as Harry brushed behind his balls at his furled opening. He hadn't even realized that Harry had taken out a tiny bottle of oil until it was in his hand, given to him by the other man.

"You don't have the bother with prepping me. I had sex last night. And I was fingering myself before I came to work this morning. I'm prepped enough already."

"It amazes me," stated Harry, lifting his hips when Draco rubbed the length of him with cold fingers, wet with oil, "That you say something like that with such a face."

"I'm comfortable with my sexuality. No reason is there, for me to be ashamed of something so natural." He grappled Harry's shoulders again, looking down as he tried to angle his body to push down on Harry's cock. The tip touched, and Draco's buttocks clenched again, tightening his hole before he relaxed, calming his own silly excitement. Harry was impatient to it, and nudged his cock up, hands working Draco's waist to push him down.

He swallowed a cry, but his lips were trembling, and his thighs felt that immediate burn as he sank onto Harry's prick. The head slipped in, and with a sobbing sigh the length of him was inside of him, pushing into and against the walls of his ass. Harry kissed his open mouth, swallowing his breathy gasps, whimpering into his lips. He felt so full that it hurt, and he dug hard into Harry's dress shirt, trying to lift his hips.

Harry pulled him down again, and he let out a strangled moan, rocking his hips. He formed a pattern of it, rocking when Harry pushed up, and then raising his hips with Harry's hands squeezing his waist to pull him further. His cock was pulsing between his shirt and the edge of Harry's tie, and he whimpered every time the tip of it scraped the head of his prick.

His lips were firm, Harry's, set in a thin straight line. He saw him looking at it, at him, and grabbed his face to bring their mouths together.

"You look sated," said Harry, smiling at his preening, the contended face that Draco had after weeks of sex – or so Blaise had told him one day. Draco smiled into his shoulder, seeing the indents his fingers made, and the creases in his cottony shirt.

"Very," he mumbled. Harry was still lodged inside of him, soft, but Draco was content with sitting there and let Harry pet his hair, fingering strands and scratching his scalp softly.

"You're like a pet," he commented, and Draco nipped him for it.

"I'm just content and lazy. I'm certainly not a pet."

Harry grinned, and kissed his full mouth.

"Do you really always only have sex on a Tuesday?"

"Yeah," he said, and turned his neck for Harry to continue his path of fluttery kisses.

"Today's Wednesday."

"Well you're an exception, so stop talking and continue kissing me."


End file.
